Sticks and Stones
by LittleMissFandom
Summary: Angels aren't all white purity and beauty. Some would even say that many of them have become corrupt, feeding off of the suffering of the human race as they look down upon them. Not many know of the few good angels that are good for the sake of good, and they most certainly don't know of the help they would need to humanize themselves far enough to thrive without a grace.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Leave me your thoughts on this and let me know if I should continue it.**

**{TW: There's mentions of self mutilation, murder, and injury in this fanfiction. I try not to use too many details, but if you cannot handle or are triggered by those things, I'll post less gruesome chapter, if need be, on an alternate story so you can enjoy this as well.}**

1968

The final bell rang, dismissing the school full of students. Two painfully ordinary students walked out hand in hand. You may ask why these two are so important out of all of the artistic geniuses and talented athletes and musicians. I'll tell you what makes them so special. Misfortune seeps from every aspect of these poor teenagers' lives.

They're on the same level of misunderstood. Behind the hand holds and embraces is a much deeper and kinder motive for the girl, Cassandra, had hands riddled with scars. The boy, Bastian, got too attached to the girl who'd given up.

Somehow, I know you don't care about their pasts. You care about what's about to happen to them. The pain and sad and stuff. Now, let me remind you, like I did a moment ago, this is not a happy story. Things don't work out like in the movies and there's a lot filler chapters and such coming. Brace yourselves.

On the fateful day of December 15, 1968, Cassandra was taken extremely ill. She was rushed to a hospital and checked over by concerned doctors. Hours later, a nurse was sent to get the only person waiting in the waiting room.

The dear girl had lung cancer from a few too many packs of cigarettes. Bastian was heartbroken, knowing that this was wound he couldn't help her heal. He stayed beside that bed with her for ten days. On the morning of December 25, she rose from her bed, fully healthy.

Upon being asked what'd happened, she answered that an angel had come to her and healed her. She didn't go home that night. Or the next one. Though her parents didn't care or even notice her absence, her lovely boyfriend did. He heard a voice in his head the night he noticed something off. The owner claimed to be the friend of the angel that possessed his dear Cassandra. It asked for permission to take possession of Bastian's own body.

Thinking that it'd help his lover, he accepted, not realizing the great mistake he'd made.

2011

"So get this…" Sam began to say.

Dean sighed inaudibly and rolled over hoping Sam was saying anything too important and that he could catch a few more minutes of sleep. He didn't though. Cas flew in flustered and more uptight than normal. The tired hunter got out of bed and looked over Sam's shoulder to see what the moose was babbling on about.

"Haven't they been covered on and off for like five years now?" he asked, gesturing to the released mental patients Sam was reading about.

"Yeah…it's weird though. They never age and it's never just the girl. And every time he's touching her…as if he thinks she'll run off if he doesn't." Sam said, pointing to the pictures.

"Hm…demons maybe?"

"I don't think so. Demons would leave their vessels when they got caught. These two stayed together in the sanitarium the entire time until they were both declared sane and released." Cas added.

"Shall we pay them a visit?"

"That would be wise, yes."

After a relatively long drive, the Winchester brothers arrived outside of the small house in the middle of nowhere. It looked normal enough, with its chipped paint and overgrown grass. They approached the door and knocked loudly, preparing for a fight. Instead they were faced with an angry girl. Her hair dripped on the floor and she was clad in a towel.

"Can I help you?" she growled.

"Are you Cassandra Collins?" Sam asked.

"Yes. I am." She narrowed her eyes.

"Can we talk to you?"

"Can I get dressed first?"

"Please do."

She let them in and walked up the stairs. A few minutes later, she returned to the living room, where the two men were sitting. She gestured for them to follow her into the kitchen.

"Coffee?" She offered.

Dean nodded and Sam declined politely. The young woman took down two mugs and poured coffee into both. She carried both to the kitchen table along with sugar and cream.

"I'll be back in a moment…make yourselves at home." She said, carrying a cup of heavily sweetened coffee to the stairs.

"What are you doing…?" Dean asked.

"Taking this upstairs."

"Oh…okay."

She walked up the creaky stairs and opened a door. The Winchesters listened to the muffled conversation before Cassandra came bounding back down the stairs. She sat in a chair and awaited their questions.

"It's never been confirmed….are you and the curly guy together?" Dean asked.

"…Yes. We are." She said after a moment of silence.

"Are you two immortal?"

"Possibly."

"Would you call the relationship you have with him healthy?"

"Of course."

Dean's next question was interrupted by someone walking down the stairs. A bleary-eyed teenager stumbled in, yawning. Cassandra looked at him in a way that could put Juliet Capulet to shame. When he looked at her though, she turned her head to focus on her chipped nail polish. As soon as she wasn't paying attention, he stared at her in a way that reminded the older Winchester of the way Cas used to stare.

"We need food…" Cassandra told him, standing up.

"Make a list; I'll pick it up later." The curly child said.

"I'll go do that…are you cool with talking to these attractive men here?" she asked, sending a playful wink to the Winchesters.

"Just go make the list." He sighed, pushing her away from the table.

She winced and waddled off to the pantry, grabbing a pad of paper and a pen on her way over. Dean already had a slight glare set on the boy sitting in front of him. Sam cleared his throat and sat forward in his chair a bit.

"So…Bastian…am I pronouncing that right?" he began.

"Yeah, you've got it." Bastian yawned.

"Can you confirm that you're dating her?"

"Yes. I am dating her."

"Why do we never see her in public without you?"

"It's for her protection."

"You don't trust her?"

"If you knew her, you wouldn't trust her either."

There was a loud bang and Bastian cursed before stomping off to the pantry, slamming the door behind him.

"It'll hurt less if you stay still!" his exclamation was followed by a high pitched yelp the sent both Winchesters running to the scene.

Heartbreaking whimpers seeped through the thick wood of the door. Dean threw it open and the very first thing he noticed was blood staining the floor. The second thing he noticed eased his concern for the poor girl. Bastian was helping Cassandra out of a pile of glass shards. Her hands and feet were bleeding. She waved to the brothers and hissed in pain when her boyfriend picked her up. He carried her into the kitchen and set her on the counter before getting a pair of tweezers, a towel, and a bowl. He carefully cleaned the wounds and bandaged the deep cuts. He even kissed the bandages on her palms humming a tune.

After bandaging her up, he go to work cleaning up the stray drops of blood.

"Why do we always end up here?" he asked her in a joking way.

"What? With you cleaning up my blood and scolding me? Making sure I know the gravity of what I've done?" she joked back.

"Stop that. You know I didn't mean that." He wasn't joking any longer.

"Well if you'd have listened to me, there wouldn't have been any problems."

"You nearly died! What was I supposed to do?!"

"Let me!"

_December 31, 1974 11:56 PM_

_ The cold, damp wood sliced through the thin material of Cassandra's dress. Her shoes were set on the dock beside her. It was almost time for her to go. She drew out the reflective razor she'd nicked from the groceries and turned it over in her hands. A minute passed, then another. _

_ She pushed the sharp blade against her skin and relished the sight of heavily streaming blood. Then she repeated the action and, before her head grew too heavy, pushed off the splintered wood, crashing into the icy water. She didn't even try to hold her breath as she sank to the murky bottom. Just before they grew numb, her toes sank into the soft mud and plants twisted around her ankles. _

_ Her eyes remained open as her last breaths escaped in the form of a last word. _

_ "Goodnight."_

_ She was pulled from the water with lifeless eyes staring into the distance, blue lips, and a bloodless face. But he didn't cry for her. He didn't even react, save for his sigh of frustration. He placed a hand over her stilled heart and applied pressure. Her lungs expanded and she gasped in a new breath. Her face slowly regained color and her lips slowly became their natural color. _

_ "You're lucky I was here, you idiotic child." He scolded her, pulling her up violently, nearly dislocating her shoulders in the process. _

_ "Why did you do that?" she was perplexed as he pulled her along._

_ "Nithael wouldn't be pleased if you were to leave us." His tone was filled with faux concern and care. _

_ When he faced her though, his expression was harsh and uncaring. He squeezed her wrist until she cried out and fell to her knees. Then he ripped her up, scraping her exposed flesh against the rough cement and pulled her to his side._

_ "You're so pathetic, pet." He hissed._

_ "Let go of me…please…" she pleaded._

_ "You're mine, you dull, weak creature." _

_ "I'm not weak!" Cassandra cried._

_ "You're right. That word is too strong for you. You're nothing." The boy spat._

_ "No I'm not! You're lying!" _

_ "Then why hasn't anyone come to save you? You're not worth anyone's time, but I'll sacrifice my time to keep you safe. I'll protect you until, when, and even after Nithael returns from heaven."_

_ "And why would that be?"_

_ "It's adorable. How pathetic you are. You think that if you die, you'll be able to escape from all this. Wherever you go_, _I'll find you and I'll break every one of those pretty bones you have. Then I'll reset them and make you live on in pain and suffering."_

_ "You're demented!"_

_ "That's the real world, darling, and you'll just have to deal with it."_

_ "Don't call, me that." _

_ He chuckled lowly and released her wrist, causing her to whimper. Next he wrapped his arm around her and used the free one to point at a man across the bar. _

_ "Now…my protection isn't free. This is what you need to do…" _

Cassandra hopped off the counter, hissing in pain when she landed. Without a word, she went upstairs. A door slammed loudly and the sound of things being thrown, broken, and hit echoed down the stairs.

Screamed curses flooded down as well, causing all three males to flinch. The youngest of them looked to the stairs. He did not look pleased with the girl that was still screaming and throwing things.

"I'd… better go take care of her." He said quietly.

"Is it always like that?" Sam asked.

"Not always… I really need to get up there before she hurts herself. Please let yourselves out as whatever you were doing is over." Bastian sighed, walking up the stairs.

It wasn't until they were exiting the house that they noticed small, almost unnoticeable things on their trip to the foyer. There was something that glimmered tucked beneath a large jacket. There were small scrapes along the floor and the bottom of the wall. Indentations peppered the drywall near the door. The rug in front of the door was pushed slightly to the side, revealing a Devil's trap.

Some people could deny the fact something was very strange about the teenagers upstairs, but anyone could identify a cry for mercy. Not even the most open minded person could deny the chilling sound that'd left the throat of the girl upstairs and around the corner was one of fear. Never has the word "please" sound so desperate and sad.

I supposed that's why that house all alone with no one around to hear…


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter is probably as worse than the last one. (Shhh….I need a hug) **

{TW: There's mentions of self mutilation, murder, and injury in this fanfiction. I try not to use too many details, but if you cannot handle or are triggered by those things, I'll post less gruesome chapter, if need be, on an alternate story so you can enjoy this as well.}

**1969**

Cars thundered down the road, most of them failing to notice the girl walking alongside with an outstretched thumb. Headlights illuminated the dark streets. Finally a car pulled over and the passenger door was opened for her. She carefully got in, making sure to cross her legs and keep her skirt intact. She buckled her seatbelt behind her and set her bag on her lap.

The driver, a large and bulky man with thin eyebrows looked over at her. She smiled sweetly at him. He smiled back, pulling back onto the road. The girl gave him instructions to a pharmacy and sat back in her seat. After a few minutes of driving, he placed a hand on her leg. She pushed it off and scooted slightly away from him.

"So Honey…what's your name?" he drawled.

"My name isn't your business..." She replied.

"You're in my car." He said.

"Pull over." She ordered.

"Why?" he pulled over on the side of the road again.

Instead of answering she opened the door to get out. The man grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back in. She gripped her bag tightly as he shoved her into the backseat. A scream ripped out of her throat and he covered her mouth.

She sat up and used all of her strength to hit his head as hard as she could against the window a few times. Tears ran down her face and she began to laugh. The laughing girl dragged his limp body out of the door after she opened it.

She unzipped the bag and drew out a meat cleaver. Just as she flipped it across her knuckles another figure darted through, dragging their own knife across the man's throat. The girl raised her hand, preparing to ambush whoever stole her right to kill the man at her feet. She kept her eyes looking as she drove her own weapon through the man's eye socket.

Blood spattered across her face and dress. She rose to her feet and searched for the one that attacked the now dead man first. She spotted someone standing against a tree, looking impressed.

"Are you going to tell me what made you think you could do that?" she asked, placing a bloody hand on her hip.

"I was bored and, to be fair, you did scream." The boy said, wiping his knife on a leaf.

"I didn't need your help." She spat.

"Clearly." He gestured to the body.

"Then why did you do that? You're an idiot, you know that, Jophiel?"

"Oh c'mon Nith, you're acting like that wimpy human you possessed!" Jophiel whined, "Loosen up!"

She giggled and walked over to him, a sinister smile across her face. He dodged her, smiling wider. He snapped to rid the ground of the hideous corpse and grabbed the hand of his female companion's hand. She squealed when he spun her around then stopped to dip her. Her vessel's hair bounced with every movement she made.

Her vessel, Cassandra, wasn't quite pretty, but the presence of an angel gave her the boost she needed to be counted as beautiful. She was like a mismatched pair of socks, with many attractive features that didn't fit together right, taking the appeal from them.

Jophiel, however, was a whole different story. His vessel, Bastian, was as attractive as a human could be. The grace only added onto the perfection that he'd already brought to the table. He was, in every single way, ideal. Even Nithael, who'd decided that she was above any and all humans, could admit attraction to him.

The fact that their vessels were already familiar with each other only made it easier for the celestial beings. They honestly didn't know what to call themselves as a pair; they thought it could be classified as the petty human phenomenon called love. It was stronger than that though. They were practically made for each other.

The two angel interlocked fingers and pranced along the side of the road. No one gave them a second thought despite the blood on them. They thanked their father for human holidays. It's strange how no one even pays attention to two blood stained teenagers on one day of the year, but get so afraid on the other three hundred sixty four.

Jophiel led his dear companion to the small house they were living in to be convincing humans. When they arrived, Nithael put candy into a bowl and set it on the porch before returning to the interior of the house. She got comfortable with Jophiel on the couch and listened to see what her brothers and sisters were up to.

"They're looking for us." She said quietly after a moment.

"Is it that clown, Mihael?" Jophiel asked, resting his hand on hers.

"Mhm…do you think he'll catch us?"

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"Yeah. He may be a clown, but he's smarter than both of us combined. We can't hide forever… We're not human and, right now, that's the opposite of good. I mean, we're awful at pretending to be human."

"What if I get caught? I could fake my death and Avalon would never let Mihael hurt you so you could pretend to surrender."

"I'll guard your vessel so it won't be harmed."

"Why would you do that?"

"I quite like it. This….thing suits you well."

Nithael nodded and squeezed his hand. Pure white light flooded from her vessel's body and the girl went limp on the couch. Jophiel pushed her off and picked the newspaper up off the coffee table.

It took around fifteen minutes for the human on the floor to awaken. She rubbed her eyes and looked around before the angel on the sofa caught her eye. Her gaze locked on him and she just stared for a long while. He finally looked up from the newspaper and stared back at her, disgust in his eyes.

It wasn't long before she got up off of the hard floor and sat beside him. Jophiel lifted they newspaper higher to block her view of him and his view of her, accidentally giving her space to curl up against his side like an animal. Though hatred filled the pit of his stomach, he almost enjoyed having a living creature that wasn't animated by an angel near him.

"I was so scared…" Her feeble voice mewled.

"Just close your eyes. It'll be alright if you cooperate." He told her.

Suddenly the warmth radiating from her withdrew from him and she scrambled away. Fear filled her eyes and she was trembling. How pathetic she looked on the edge of that couch, shaking and on the verge of tears over something she had no control over. After another moment of staring, her shoulders slumped forward and she pulled her knees to her chests.

"Who are you?!" she exclaimed.

"Jophiel. Why does that concern you?" he replied, bored by her fear and sadness.

"Where's Bastian?" She asked emotively before sobs wracked through her body, shaking her shoulders.

"Dear father that sound is annoying…" he groaned, referring to her gasps for air.

He pressed a hand against her forehead to make her fall unconscious and she landed on the floor with a plop. Jophiel sighed and picked her up, placing her in the unused bedroom near the kitchen. Before he left, he pulled the blankets over her and locked the door behind him.

He returned the next morning, assuming that Nitheal had returned in the night. To his surprise, the human girl wasn't there, ergo neither was his angel friend. He wandered into the unused kitchen and found the small creature attempting to find food.

"Hi…" she said quietly, backwards walking away from him.

"Did they hurt your wings? I can't see them." Jophiel asked, walking forwards a little.

"Was that a pick up line? Are you trying to pick me up?"

"I'm not trying to lift you… Why would you think that?"

"You weren't hitting on me?"

"Why would I hit you? Nith, I'm very confused."

"Before we address whatever you just called me, lemme explain what I meant. Were you or were you not complimenting me by calling me a winged thing to make me smile and maybe go on a date with you or something? Because you wouldn't have to do that…"

"Why would I want to go on a date with you? What are you talking about?"

He began to creep closer to her, causing her to back into the counter. She was beginning to become afraid. When she saw no escape without distracting the intimidating angel in front of her, she spit at him. While he was being disgusted, she crawled over the counter and ran out of the room as fast as her legs could take her.

Her palm smacked against the door when she arrived at it. It was unlocked, so she threw it open, scampering through it, shoeless. She didn't take long to trip over sharp brambles, causing her to tumble into the spiny trap. The thorns scratched at her cheek and tore at her knees as she pushed away from them. Leaves tangled into her hair and she didn't pay them any mind as she continued to sprint away from the house.

Her throat was raw and closed, making it hard for her to call out for someone to help her. When a hand grabbed her wrist, only then, she cried. Thankfully, it was one of the neighbors' sons that'd notice her raspy screams. He walked her to his porch and let her sit down while he retrieved a first aid kit.

"How did you know he was going to hurt you?" he asked softly after he'd brought the box.

"I've been hurt before. My first thought was to run away because I was scared. I didn't know where I was…" she answered softly, "That's not important though. What's your name?"

"John." He replied.

"And how old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Cool! Me too. Can you do me a favor?"

"Mhm. What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to take a picture of me. Okay? And keep it somewhere you'll be able to see it. If you _ever_ see me again, I need you to run as far away from me as you can." She said in the most serious voice she could manage.

"Why would I do that?" He asked, feeling slightly afraid.

"Because if I'm there, he won't be far behind."

"Will he hurt me?"

"Most likely. He'll hurt anything in his way, so I need you to take that picture and warn your family. Also, don't ever forget to tell that to your children, if you have any, and your future partner. Keep them safe."

"T-thank you."

Cassandra nodded, giving him a small smile before rising from the porch steps and walking down the lawn and around the corner. She was met with a fuming angel. He gripped her by the arm and practically dragged her back to the house. Oblivious to her turning her head to look into the boy next door's camera lens, he stomped up the yard.

Suddenly, she felt a great pressure on her. It felt as if she was being compressed into a tiny mass within herself. How badly she wanted to scream out of the agony she was feeling. Her mind was shoved against her skull, causing a blind pain to rush through her. She tried to move to alert the angel in front of her of the issue, but found that she couldn't move.

"You can let go now, Joph." Her own voice purred.

"Finally… I thought I'd have to deal with that…thing. It was so….pathetic." Jophiel replied in a relieved tone.

Cassandra could scream by then, but, to her horror, couldn't hear her shrieks. She clawed at the thing within her with all of her might. Her sobs, unheard by anything besides the monster, filled her ears.

"Awww she's trying to get out. Don't you understand, you dull creature, you're not strong enough to get away from me. You should stop trying before you hurt yourself." The invading thing chuckled out loud.

"How cute." Her friend laughed, even going far enough to pinch her cheek.

"She just tried to bite you. Maybe I should've let her keep a bit of control, it would've been hilarious to see her anger you."

"And why would that be?"

"You're very….eye-catching when you're angry."

"Is that so?"

Cassandra slammed a door in her mind, lingering on her good memories and avoiding the cold, cruel world outside of her head. In there, she was safe in the arms of someone who loved her. He was faceless and nameless, but she knew that everything would be alright if she stayed there with him.


End file.
